You're My Favorite Story
by L. M. Margaret
Summary: A little something I've been dreaming up for a while now. Setting some things right in the world of stories and wondering if they really can go on forever... (Warning:Spoilers for The Angels Take Manhattan)
1. Chapter 1

*knock* * knock*

The madman suddenly started, his head jerking up. He glanced around the empty room, doing a quick mental update of what was happening.

Someone had just knocked on the door.

He was sitting on the steps in the TARDIS.

He held a book in his hands.

A book he'd never finished.

Well,

Never finished _reading_.

He'd been stuck on page 143. He couldn't get past it, couldn't turn the page. Who knew something as light as a sheet of paper could be heavier than both his hearts?

He wondered how long had he been sitting there, staring at the pulp-fiction cover, his finger stuck in the side of the book to keep his place, and trying to talk himself into opening it again. But he can't. He couldn't. Every time he tried to he was be flooded with memories, painful, searing memories that blocked out all logical thought and everything else good and right in his soul until there was just pain, only pain.

Funny how they all thought when they weren't with him that he was off probably off gallivanting on planets made entirely of honey or having a cappuccino at Planet of the Coffee Shops. Nobody was ever there for the times when he was captured by his thoughts and imprisoned by his memories so much so that he would sit for days and weeks, and remember, and mourn, because that was all he had left. No one ever saw, no, he'd made sure of that.

What did Brian say once? "Time flies when a man's alone with his thoughts"

If only time would fly, back to a time when he wasn't so alone.

Sitting on the stairs of the TARDIS.

Staring at a book he couldn't finish.

And there was someone knocking at his door.

Oh yes, the door.

He jumped up and ran to the door. This! This was something new! No one ever knocked on the TARDIS door. There'd been plenty of banging, yes, but never this short concise knock, no one had ever been that polite. He flung the door open, desperate for anything to distract him but not sure what he was expecting.

Whatever he was expecting it certainly wasn't THAT.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's about time." She huffed as she pushed past him, trotting up the stairs like she owned the place. "I know you never answer your phone but completely ignoring your door is something entirely different."

"Excuse me…?!" The Doctor stared in utter shock as the girl flounced past. There was a random girl In his TARDIS! And worse yet she wasn't even glancing around "Who are you and what are you doing in my TARDIS?"

"Me?" She looked over her shoulder, appearing innocent.

"Do you see anyone else waltzing rudely into my ship? That's what this is, you know, it's a spaceship. It doesn't look like one, I know, it just looks like a Police Public Call Box so it appears as if it's bigger on-"

"Bigger on the inside, chameleon circuit is broken, yup, I know the drill." She was making herself right at home, casually walking up the stairs and dropping a messenger bag at the top of the stairs.

He cocked his head at her questioningly; then he shakes his head in confusion and straightens his bow-tie. People just don't interrupt the "Bigger on the Inside" speech. They stand there in awe, they make egg faces, and they certainly do not finish his sentences and make snide remarks about drills. It must be a strange fluke. This could not be happening. He continues the speech as if she hadn't interrupted him at all. "Did I mention it travels in space too? TARDIS stands Time And Rela-"

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space." She grins, obviously amused at something and quite proud of herself, "I told you Doctor, I know the drill."

"But-"He started to protest. He didn't know why he didn't just pick this girl up and chuck her out the door. She was wandering around the counsel area, exclaiming at the strangest things and poking at the typewriter, but she did it all with a purpose, as if she was looking for something. He narrowed his eyes and studied her. She knew more about him than any normal human should know.

Maybe she wasn't normal.

Maybe she wasn't human.

A cyborg uploaded with information about him sent to gain his trust and then destroy him?

No, impossible, he's deleted himself from all the databases, no one should be able to download him if he didn't exist.

She suddenly spun around and ran back to him, shoving a piece of paper in his hand. "Oh, I forgot: Here." He took it and glanced at it. Lots of dates and strange co-ordinances like "Before Archery Contest" and "FOX Meeting 03".

"What's this?" He asks holding it out.

She ignores him and instead runs up the stairs again and runs around the consol. "We've got a lot to do and not much time." She explains. "We've got to get moving." She trots up the second staircase and heads down the hallway, she calls back "I'm thinking behind one of these doors is a room we could use to keep a couple of them if need be. Maybe one of River's closets could be temporally repurposed?"

She disappeared down the hallway and he stands there for a moment before shakily climbing the steps and sitting down again, where he'd been sitting before that female whirl-wind invaded his world, and now he felt exhausted once again. Today was one of those days when he had accidently allowed his age to show itself, he felt old and decrepit, the short encounter wearying him more than some would have thought possible. Running after her and demanding an explanation would require more energy than he could even think about conjuring. Besides, it didn't seem like she'd done any harm yet, and the TARDIS could protect itself. He could ask her all the questions he wanted to know when she got back. For now he could let his brain do all the work. 1200 years of experiences would not go to waste; he could deduce what or who this maniac girl was. _Eliminated the impossible__, __whatever remains__,_ however improbable, must be the truth. That's how he did things. Now concentrate.

Now where was he? Oh yes:

She's not a cyborg.

He was almost positive she was human, although once he felt strong enough to get up again he'd ask the TARDIS to run a test on her, but it would only serve to prove what he already knew, only a true red-blooded hot-headed human would have the audacity to come barging into the TARDIS like that. No respect for personal space, these humans.

Yes, most definitely human, but most definitely _not_ a normal one.

She almost seemed… familiar in a strange way. There was a strange inkling in the back of his mind, like he knew her; it was the only reason he hadn't thrown her out at first sight. That inkling had been lucky for her, he knew with the mood he was in right now he was dangerous, if she crossed him he honestly didn't know what he'd do.

He rubbed his forehead, trying to recall a memory he didn't know was there. Did he maybe meet her in his travels? There were more times than he can count that he'd been running from something, the Daleks or Cyberman and he ran into someone, took their hand, and then they'd run together.

Then, as soon as it was safe, or, if he's honest with himself, when they died, hit by a blast or a bullet, dead because they ran with him, then he left them. Was she one of them? The run and hits?

No.

No, she couldn't be one of them; all those faces were seared in his memory, he couldn't forget them if he tried, and believe him, he'd tried.

Maybe she knew one of his companions. Although he couldn't imagine any of them just blabbing stories of him to random friends. A daughter maybe? He did travel in time after all; they could've moved on, had children, and the children had grown up listening to stories of a Madman with a Box. It was a possibility.

He considered her features. She was utterly normal looking. Average height, wearing jeans and a tee-shirt with an obscure reference he didn't understand paired with brightly-colored TOMS. She wasn't thin or large, her eyes weren't blue or brown or green, he supposed you'd call that Hazel. They were lovely eyes, very bright and beautiful and full of hope.

Her face was a normal oval shape and there was nothing definite about her features, her nose wasn't Roman or beaky, it was just a nose. He couldn't tell if her hair was naturally that non-descript blond-ish/brown-ish color or if it was highlighted that way. There was even a touch of ginger to her, but not enough that she could be Donna's dau-

No she definitely wasn't Donna's.

Donna didn't know the stories.

He'd seen to that.

Wherever she'd learned about him, it wasn't from a past companion or a database. She just knew, and he didn't like that.

Not one bit.

He heard noises behind him and turned to see.

She (or at least he assumed it was her under everything) emerged from the hallway, arms teeming with random objects taken from around the TARDIS, mostly books and- wait how had she gotten into his secret chocolate stash?

"I am burdened with glorious purpose!" She called gleefully from under the pile; she tripped on the last step and almost dropped everything. "…And a little help with the all the glorious-ness wouldn't be misplace!"

He stood up hurriedly as she lurched across the floor and dumped the pile in his arms without as much as a by-your-leave.

"Doctor! I told you we don't have much time! We've got places to go! Didn't you read my list?" Because the pile was now deposited in front of his line of vision he couldn't actually see her anymore but he could hear her sigh and from one side of the pile the corner of his eye caught her stooping to pick up the list where it had fallen when he'd stumbled to sit down.

"Never mind, I'll do it. You probably wouldn't know how to get there anyways." She set off towards the consol and he could hear her flipping switches.

"Excuse me!" He interjected forcefully, stumbling after her, trying to see what was going on. He finally dumped the pile of clothes and books and chocolate a chair.

"Oi! Be careful with those!" She intoned. "That's important for our work!"

"What work? And you'll do _what_ exactly? Stop touching the TARDIS!"

"I think if the TARDIS truly objected to me touching her I wouldn't be standing here. Relax."

She pulls the screen over to where she standing and stares at it as if she's actually comprehending what's written there.

"Besides," She continues. "It's about time someone started respecting her wants and needs! Hello Dear! How are you today?" She smiles at the screen, as if she was video-chatting someone, and she listens closely even though the only sound in the room is the TARDIS engines. "Sounds like you've been a bit down, I'm sorry to hear that! Do you think a little trip would cheer you up?" She pauses again, listening. "You've been parked here how long?! My goodness darling you must be desperate for exercise! Now I've got the perfect little present for you." She holds up her list to the screen, a laser scans it. "In order please, thanks Dear!"

He looks at her incredulously. No one had ever _talked_ TO the TARDIS before, not like it was a living thing. The girl glanced at him, noticing his shock.

"What?" She asked. "Her translation system can translate any language, including her own; it just takes an open mind and a willing ear. You know, she's been absolutely bored out her mind here, so she's agreed to do me a favor." The TARDIS suddenly roared to life and he's caught off guard and falls against the railing. Not the girl though, she grabs on, grinning the whole time. "Besides, amazing things happen when you use the magic word!" She calls over to him. "Please!"

"But-" He grasp a rail and shouts at the thief at the consol. "But nobody drives my TARDIS but me!"

"And River of course!" She shouts back at him. "And besides, I'm not driving! She is!"

After a frightfully long moment there's a bump and the TARDIS engines slow. "Now _that_ was a first-class proper landing." She straightens up and pats the screen. "Good job Dear."

"Now," She says, brushing her hands off in a satisfied manner. "Let's go."

Only now, as she strolls off the consol and down the steps, does he realize she's changed. There's a long coat over her clothes and a floral scarf looped around her neck. She takes a pair of glasses out of the coat pocket and puts them on triumphantly. They're horned rimmed and could only be described as "hipster", she obviously didn't need them considering the flare with which she dons them.

She opens the door and sticks her head out.

"A bit chilly!" She calls back to him over her shoulder. "You might want to grab a coat."

"I don't want a coat." From where he's still sprawled on the floor he manages to blurt it out in what he realizes a bit late is a very juvenile tone of voice.

"Suit yourself." She says dismissively, and disappears outside. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

The Madman quickly evaluates the situation: he hasn't a clue what's going on. Hasn't got a clue as to how she got in here, how she got here to move and where here is now, but if he was going to get any answers he was going to have to follow this mysteriously normal girl until he got some answers.

He steps out the door.

"Doctor, May I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"


End file.
